SYNTHESIS
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Chapter 05 - "Mignon"

They exchanged glances of bewilderment while Laurent sharply rapped at one of the double doors. Presently Luisa Carvallo, Mignon's nanny, appeared. She looked much as she had when Alex and Bobby had first seen her the previous year in Washington, DC, except that she wore the ubiquitous pink blouse of the Duplantier household staff over her navy blue skirt, dark stockings, and low-heeled sensible shoes, her long brown-black hair still arranged in a thick, long braid, her dark eyes curious in her cameo-like oval face. "Oui, Monsieur Laurent?"

"I've brought some old friends to visit Mignon," he said to her, smiling, as her eyes widened in recognition of Alex and Bobby. "Monsieur et Madame Goren."

Here he swung the doors open to reveal the sitting room of the little suite. It was cozy, plain but pretty, painted a satin-finish butter-color and trimmed with white beadboard under the chair rail, with Beatrix Potter and Ernest Shepard prints on the walls. A big television hung on the wall to the right with a cabinet below filled with DVDs, topped by a player and what appeared to be a cable box. A sofa with a narrow sofa table behind it (the table stacked with books and a reading lamp) was at left, two comfortable armchairs at center faced the sofa. A door opened on each wall, and a bookcase filled with books and stacked on top with more volumes centered the back wall.

Mignon, startled, jerked her head up. She was seated cross-legged on the floral-print plush sofa, pecking at the keys of a laptop propped on a little stand before her—Alex's throat tightened in familiarity when she saw the little girl duplicating her favorite writing position—while on the floor underneath her a powder-puff of a small white dog sprawled, its bright dark eyes fixed on them and its tail waving a welcome, even though it made no move to greet them or even bark. Although Mignon was seated, they could see she'd grown perhaps an inch with shoulders not as thin and narrow as they had been, and her once golden-blond hair had darkened so that it was now honey-colored. When she stared at them, her eyes, the mirror of her mother Nicole's, gave Bobby a jolt, especially after his dream earlier; they were swollen from crying and exhaustion, little pale blue smudges of sleeplessness sketched underneath them.

"Hello, Mignon," Alex said. "Remember us? You played in our 'Wendy house' last spring."

"We still have your drawing of Sam on our refrigerator," Bobby added in a warm voice.

Mignon was speechless for at least five seconds, then she thrust the laptop aside, nearly stumbled over the dog as she scrambled from the sofa, and bolted into Alex's arms and burst into tears. For the first time Laurent lost the cool, collected look he'd maintained throughout the morning, his mouth ajar in surprise, and Luisa gasped, looking as if she were about to have apoplexy. "Miss Mignon! What are you doing? These are your guests–"

"No, no," Bobby said gently, stepping forward and lightly touching the nanny's arm as she moved forward. "It's fine, Luisa. We're old friends now."

Alex was trembling slightly as she held the weeping child, remembering the butterfly-like creature who had chattered about their 'quaint house' and had been mesmerized by Bandit, romped around the yard with Sam and drawn a credibly good picture of him for an eight-year-old. "It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered automatically, rubbing her back as she would have to her own nephew Eddie or her nieces Sophia and Eleanor at that age. She ached thinking of any of the three having to go through Mignon's pain. "Shhhh. It's all right."

"No, it's not." Mignon choked out. "Maman and Papa Marcel are gone. I'll never see them again, ever." She sobbed softly on Alex's shoulder and Alex felt the fabric of her blouse grow damp as the child wept.

Alex rocked her slowly, making soft unintelligible hushing sounds, glancing at Bobby and seeing the distress on his face, but finally Mignon took a deep shuddering breath, pulling back a little, her flushed face stained with streaks of fresh and dried tears. "A-a-and Madame hates me. She'll probably have me sent to an orphanage."

"Now that is not true," said Laurent mock-sternly, stepping forward and placing a tender hand on her smooth hair. His eyes were grave. "Mon poussin, you know I won't lie to you because you are too intelligent for that, so yes, my mother is not fond of you. But this is my home as well, and I swear to you that you will never go to an orphanage."

Alex glanced at Bobby once more, took a deep breath, and whispered to Mignon, "Would you be comfortable giving Mr. Goren a hug? He's been worried about you." She shot Bobby a warning glance, because the orphanage remark had brought fire into his eyes.

Mignon nodded gravely and abandoned Alex to give Bobby a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Monsieur. I didn't mean to ignore you." Defused for the moment, he squatted down as he did for Ana and Carlos Serrano, two of the children they mentored at Big Brothers, Big Sisters, taking her hands and searching her woebegone face. "No apologies, Mignon. I'm so sorry for what's happened. Your maman was so full of life and your papá was a gentleman who did his best for his country."

"Yes, sir," she said sadly, probably having heard the same platitudes from other adults already, gripping his big hands tightly, trying to suppress more tears. Swiftly he tried to divert her by indicating the little white dog, still obediently lying next to the sofa. "Is that Tipsy? How do you get her to be so still? Sam would have been in my face already."

She said solemnly, swallowing, "Luisa told her to stay. She's been alone here with Tipsy since I went away to school, and Luisa says she has taught her manners. Come, Tipsy!"

Now the bichon frise became animated, scampering to them, then dancing on her hind legs like the little circus dogs they were bred to be. "Fetch your ball, Tipsy," she said eagerly, gesturing to the dog's toy, and the little dog trotted to pick up the red ball nearby and bounced back with it. "Good dog!" For a minute Mignon smiled as she played tug-o-war with the white dog, then said imperiously, "Tipsy, drop it!" and the dog did so, immediately sitting and waiting with glowing, expectant eyes. "Good dog!" Mignon crowed again and tossed the ball again, and Tipsy chased it, but this time she returned the ball to Luisa, who had seated herself in one of the floral armchairs.

Now Bobby smiled at the little girl. "Laurent has promised us a tour of the city today. Will you help him? I'll bet you know some interesting places to go."

Mignon brightened, then looked at her startled half-brother, "May I, Laurent?"

Laurent ran his eyes from Bobby to Alex. "Of course, if that's what your friends want–"

Alex flashed an encouraging smile at Mignon. "I think we'd enjoy it very much," she replied, her voice tinged with slight mischief.

Swallowing, but her mind diverted for the moment, Mignon asked eagerly, "What do you want to see the most, Madame Goren?"

"Oh, all the places I've read about and seen in the movies: the Champs-Élysées, Notre Dame–"

"And you, Monsieur?" Mignon said, distraction brightening her wan face.

"I," Bobby said almost confidentially, "want to visit Shakespeare and Company."

"Did you hear that, Laurent?" the child said, her eyes showing the trace of a sparkle. "A bookstore!" But she sobered quickly. "Just as Maman would have done."

"If you intend to be seen out in the public," Luisa said fondly, "you will need your face washed, your hair brushed, and then a change of clothing. Quickly now, first to the bain and then some fresh things," and the two of them bustled through the door to their left, the child's bedroom and bath.

"Are you certain about this?" Laurent asked after Mignon was out of earshot, now appearing thoroughly confused. Alex exchanged glances with Bobby, raising her eyebrows. Had Laurent anticipated a more "adult" excursion? "She's très fille formidable, but very lively. She will lead us...I think you say 'a merry chase'?"

"I think what she could use right now is 'a merry chase'—and I would enjoy viewing Paris through Mignon's eyes," Bobby said mildly, but there was steel behind his voice, and Alex had to bite her lip to keep from cheering him on.

. . . . .

Two hours later the four were seated around a mosaic-topped iron table in front of a glacier, relaxing in black metal café chairs enjoying warm early afternoon sunshine.

Alex watched Mignon gravely lick her chocolate ice cream cone. Between her restive shifting in the small café chair and Bobby, looking absurdly large in his own, unconsciously shifting his ever-restless legs, she was glad she didn't get motion sick. Laurent, scooping vanilla ice cream from a recyclable cardboard cup, watched the three of them interact curiously. It was apparent to both Bobby and Alex that, although Laurent evidently liked Mignon's company, he was in no way child-oriented; Alex wondered if it were why he hadn't married yet and instead chose life with his mother.

It was Mignon who asked politely, like a small host, "Are you enjoying your tour, Monsieur Goren?"

"Very much," Bobby replied, in earnest. "You're very knowledgeable about the city."

"When I wasn't at school Maman took me somewhere almost every day. We'd go where the tourists meet, listen to them talk, even when they were being very funny trying to speak French or bragging about how their country was so much better than France. We'd go to the smallest places sometimes, where the tourists never go...little shops–" Mignon gave a sigh, her voice growing smaller and smaller as she continued. "Maman said even after living here for almost ten years she still felt like a tourist."

Alex felt the child's grief each time she spoke of her mother, even though other mentions of Nicole still stung. She felt as if the butterfly she'd met the previous year was now pinned to a board like a science specimen, acting the part of a miniature woman when she was not even ten.

"Is there somewhere else you would like to go?" Alex asked now. "One of those little shops your maman showed you? Maybe a place that sells..." She had to think quickly, not having seen many toys in Mignon's little sitting room. "...games? Or stuffed animals?"

"I really want to go to Shakespeare and Company, like Monsieur," Mignon replied with dignity. "There's a book I wish to look for, to bring back to school after–" and suddenly her face puckered and she struggled to control herself. Laurent had finished his ice cream and made a move to rise and comfort her, but Alex gave a small, decisive shake of her head, which gave the proud child a chance to recover. "–after the funeral." Then she put on a thoughtful expression. "After we look at the books, Laurent and I will take you to Île de la Cité. Laurent, may we go by Pont Neuf?" She had slipped into tourguide mode again. "That is the oldest bridge in Paris, you know! Of course we won't be able to see the cathedral itself, but we may see something interesting they're doing with the reconstruction! Did you know they hope to celebrate Midnight Mass there next Christmas? Maman would always take me during each holiday—she didn't care about the religious part, but she'd tell me about the history, and sometimes we'd watch–" She took a deep, shuddering breath and was silent.

"You'll have to show us the places she brought you," Bobby said understandingly. "I'm finished with my ice cream. How about you?"

Mignon silently turned her attention to her cone and in several minutes they'd moved on.

. . . . .

Much later, with the sun low in the sky, Alex and Bobby were silently mounting the stairs to the third floor and their room. She had his hand fast in hers, and he was squeezing it much more tightly than usual, muttering under his breath.

"What?" she asked, unable to make out his words.

"'There will be time, there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet...'" he quoted with a sigh. "Do you think we helped Mignon today?"

"We at least distracted her for a few hours. Did you hear her talking about the flying buttresses at Notre Dame? It sounds like Nicole gave her a history lesson every time they went out together. Who knows, maybe someday Mignon will be a famous history professor, and we can say we knew her when." Alex smiled to herself. "And she loved the book you bought for her," this being a geology text Mignon wanted after having just been introduced to the subject in her science class. Now she opened the door to their room; they entered and she closed the door firmly before she said regretfully, "That child should have been yours, Bobby. She walked into the bookstore like a starving person."

"But seeking solace instead of food," he said.

"Like in The Refuge," she finished. "That's what attracted you about Nicole, wasn't it? She was like you, taking refuge from her nightmare of a life, in learning, in books."

"But not like me. Sometimes I saw too much of myself in Nicole. That could have been me, callously killing with no remorse. Jo said it once, quoting Dec: 'Some homes are like...laboratories for creating serial killers.'" He gazed at her, cupping her chin with a tender hand. "Thank you for being my better half, Alex."

"You've always risen above your demons, Bobby, even without me. You certainly did well today and didn't go off on Madame Pepin." She paused, then said fiercely, "I damn well wanted to when she got on her high-horse about Mignon having to study. As if she cares! I'd be willing to wager Mignon has cried more for Marcel Pepin than she has."

"I don't doubt it."

"What do you suppose Laurent meant about us being here for the reading of Pepin's will?" Alex mused.

Bobby rubbed at his temples. "Who knows? Maybe he left us more wine?" He glanced at his watch. "I think I've got enough time to lie down for a little while. Nudge me if I fall asleep."

"Want some ibuprofin?"

"No, just closed eyes for a few minutes, to prep myself for the dog and pony show tonight."

Alex drifted back to the door, turning down the lights.

"May I look at the photos on your phone?" she asked quietly.

"The photos of-? Oh, those- Do you really–" Then, now reclining on the bed, he sighed. "If you like."

Several minutes later, she came to stretch out beside him, curling on her left side. "You were right...they're not before-dinner viewing." She paused. "Pepin didn't deserve that. And I suppose...neither did Nicole."

He turned on his right side, kissed her forehead, and they remained there over a quarter of an hour before he sighed, tipped up his watch to view the face, then sighed. "In the meantime, it's time to Prufrock our faces for the next round and get dressed for dinner."

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